


smarts and the other thing (oh right, punching!)

by mackdizzy



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e13 Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons, Episode: s02e15 The Last Mabelcorn, Episode: s02e16 Roadside Attraction, Episode: s02e17 Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future, Episode: s02e20 Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls, Fix-It, Gen, Post-Episode: s02e14 The Stanchurian Candidate, Post-Episode: s02e20 Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls, this is my fix it fic :yum:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28638093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackdizzy/pseuds/mackdizzy
Summary: 𝘐𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺𝘞𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭, 𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵[An episodic rewrite of the latter half of season 2; my Stanuary '21 Fix it fic.]
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines (Past), Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, you cannot escape billford with me im sorry
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22
Collections: Stanuary





	smarts and the other thing (oh right, punching!)

**Author's Note:**

> HEYA, Y'ALL!!! HAPPY STANUARY!!!
> 
> Gone with a little something different this year; we're delving DEEP, DEEP into my journal swap AU (though....the journal swap isn't super important), combing through the second half of the second season and making the stan twins friends again! I love this what-if angle of looking at the show, and have decided to devote an entire four weeks to it (with MAYBE more than four chapters--we'll see if y'all get some bonuses!) Going to TRY and update weekly or twice weekly until the end of the month.
> 
> [Week 1: Charm]
> 
> The initial idea for this prompt was just to do what this entire fic was going to be, with each episode as its own little snippet; I came to DNDNMD and was very inspired by RPGs that have charm as their own stat, though, like PBTA games or Monster Prom (YES, i KNOW charm isn't a DND stat, but work with me here). That's when this idea came about, when I decided to devote an entire chapter to having fun with Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> No content warnings here; I'm going to try to keep this my lightest fic yet, though I will no doubt watch that all spiral down the drain when we get to mabelcorn.
> 
> [desc. lyrics from Pink's family portrait]
> 
> Enjoy!

Stan was expecting things to change when his brother came back from the multidimensional portal, sure.

Just...maybe not this much. 

Dipper, naturally, was elated. He never leaves the poor man’s side. He is a bundle of nervous energy and questions and aimless chatter, and his previous bored nonchalance for the town and its affairs was quickly revealed to be nothing more than a charade; they spend night after night poured over Ford’s journals, Dipper telling so many stories about his time in town you’d think he was using the thing like a diary entry.

Still, Stan doesn’t realize quite how intense it is until he’s ready for a nice, all-day ducktective marathon with Mabel and he sees the living room a proper maze of graph paper, cardboard standees, chewed pencils, and antique dice.

“Uh.” Stan mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Hey, Sixer, we’ve only got...one TV in this joint, and we’re sorta trying to have a marathon, would you mind takin’ that...somewhere else?”

“Hm?” Ford responds, looking up with a die perched between two of his six fingers. He looks around in shock, as if he is only now realizing the very extent of his nerdy kingdom. “Oh.” He murmurs, face going red, but Mabel seems to have forgotten her marathon entirely, picking up a little cardboard castle with an expression somewhere between curiosity and wonder.

“What _is_ all this, anyway?”

“Oh! It’s called Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons!” Ford puffs up, the way his head expands practically visible. “It’s a game of strategy, cunning, craft, creativity, intelligence, a world-building, extravagant roleplaying adventure!”

Stan’s snickering is obviously evident, because Ford shoots him that _look,_ and then rolls his eyes. “I think it’s right up your alley, _Stanley._ It’s all about talking to characters, meaningful interactions, developing skills….should be your cup of tea, someone as charming as you.”

That gets his attention. “Being...charming, is a part of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?”

“A part? Stanley, it’s its own stat!” Dipper scooches over, and Mabel takes the opportunity to sit down next to him. Stan’s arms are still plastered across his chest, and he simply raises an eyebrow skeptically at his brother. “Come on, Stan. You’re not going to get the chance to do something like this anywhere else.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Dipper. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even like it.”

_“Fine.”_ Stan concedes, sitting down and folding his legs underneath him. “Where do I start?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Dipper cheers in victory, and Ford pulls out a binder--Jesus Christ, a _Binder?_ \--of paper, slipping out something pre-printed and handing it over. “This is called a character sheet. D and D and M D is centered around the character, so make sure it’s a good one.”

Stan spends _way_ longer on this than he's comfortable admitting. He is adamant in making sure his character has the best stats possibly known to man; wise and strong and _charming_ (you can’t win ‘em all, but Ford hoards all the intelligence rolls known to man anyway). He’s some sort of half-human half-monster thing who is very good at kicking ass and taking names, and creating him is...actually kind of _fun,_ though you think Stan thinks he would die before he says that out loud.

“Hey, Mabel, go get us some Pitt Cola before we probably end up spending, like, 3 hours here?” He mutters, and he tries to show exasperation, but catches the backside of Ford’s smile nonetheless. Mabel gets up and sprints into the kitchen--

And she kicks over a little plastic box, and it sends a little glass die rolling.

And Dipper screams, and Ford shouts, and Mabel balks, and suddenly the room goes dark around them.

When Stan wakes up, he feels sunlight on his face, cold grass on his back. He jumps up to run inside and see if anyone stole anything, but he's horrified to find himself surrounded by trees. The forest, then. He absorbs this information more easily than he would’ve mere days ago; having his brother around has certainly increased the magnitude of weird dimension shit he's used to. And he's ready to ask him if he knows how to get the fuck out of here, when he turns, and--

“What the hell happened to _you?”_

Ford is dressed in some weird outfit right out of The Duchess Approve, the freckles across his nose cast in a soft glow, the tips of his ears elongated and pointed. Stan's eyes drift. Dipper looks much the same. Mabel turns her big eyes to him, and the cat-shaped ears on top of her head flick, her tail winding around her waist.

“Oh no. Ohhhhh, no. _Hell_ no.”

“Hell yes, I’m afraid.” Stan's newly-elven brother huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “ _Luckily,_ this is still _a_ version of the Gravity Falls woods, even if not our own. Which means the infinity die”--and to avoid the outcome of strangling his brother, Stan won’t ask what that is-- “Should still be in this universe’s Mystery Shack, or whatever is there instead. If I--if _we_ can put it away again, we should get back home. Luckily,” Ford adds, opening the knapsack on his side, “Icarus carries a compass.”

“Who?”

“My character.” Ford says, deadpan, meeting his eyes.

“Wait. You mean that we’re--” Stan looks down at his arms. Scales. By the time he looks back up, Mabel is halfway up the nearest tree. She makes it to the top in less than a minute, looking up over the horizon and pointing in one direction. “No need!” She shouts down, so that every monster in the entire wood can probably hear them. “There’s a building that way!”

“Is it the mystery shack?” Ford yells up.

“Don’t think so--but you said the die would be there, right?” Mabel makes her way back onto the ground, chasing her tail momentarily before straightening up. “That’s where we should go.” 

She’s nearly out of sight by the time the rest of them manage to catch up, and in the midst of some sort of lecture about _the unknown dangers lurking in the reality of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons_ from his brother, Stan takes the moment to check his own knapsack. A slingshot, a crowbar, some rope, and the axe he pulls off his belt, and is shocked to be holding in his hands as natural as his own cane. He keeps it grasped tightly in one hand as he takes up the rear, Ford behind Mabel and Dipper between the two of them

The building, once they’re there, looks _nothing_ like the mystery shack, though it is in the same area of the forest. It’s long and skinny, there’s a fence outside with horses hooked up, and the distinctive smell of alcohol in the air. It’s a _bar,_ Stan realizes--or, a _tavern,_ as Ford would snootily tell him, as the sign over the door reads. 

And Stanford, for the record, fearless multiverse hero, looks as terrified about this as anything Stan has ever seen, posture rigid, hands clenched in fists at his side. Mabel and Dipper are both looking to him, and seem unsure about what to do. “C’mon, Poindexter.” Stan laughs, nudging him in the shoulder. “It’s just a bar. Let’s go in and get that die!”

“Stanley, wait.” Ford mutters, grabbing his arm. “You don’t know what kind of creatures may be in there, what kinds of reputations we may already have around this area, what sort of dynamics are--”

“Hey, hey.” Stans soothe, hand on his shoulder. “Let Mr. 17-charm-stat take this one, okay?”

Real life, unfortunately, is not a game. You don’t get to roll a die for skills. Stan, however, has spent 30 years perfecting his _real_ charm skill, and knows the ropes as he takes to the tavern; head high, shoulders back, and a perfect, winning smile.

“Hi.” He saunters right up to the bartender, leaning on the bar and flashing an absolutely award-winning smile. “My name is Archibald the destroyer, and this is my party.” Dipper waves sheepishly, Mabel sticks out her tongue. Ford just gives him a concerned look. “We, uh.” He clears his throat, walking his fingertips cautiously across the bartop. “We may have lost a little something something the last time we were here. It’s a _teeny_ little tiny die?” He makes a motion of rolling it across the bartop.

“That tiny thing?” The bartender snorts. “It’s an antique. Sold it for a fortune.” His eyes avert, and he scratches the back of his neck. _Liar._

“Sure, miniscule.” Stan barrels on, not giving him any time to finish. “But--” Considering Archibald (was it Archibald? It is now)’s strength stat is pretty beefed, he takes a chance and grabs Mabel, hoisting her by under the shoulders and placing her on his hip. “Well.” He mumbles, a sudden frog in his throat. “It was a gift of dear Star’s here. From her mother….before the Goblin King destroyed their entire kingdom.” He wipes his eyes, and then he elbows Mabel in the back, and ah, _here_ come the waterworks.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” The bartender mumbles, and though he’s trying for annoyance, Stan can clearly detect guilt. He digs under the bar for a few moments and comes up with a cheap plastic case--do they even _have_ plastic, here? Is that what this dude means by Antique? Either way, Mabel makes eager grabby hands for it, and then _bolts_ for the door, Dipper and Ford hot on their heels. They’re barely out of the tavern before a tiny spark starts at the door, and the entire straw roof goes up in flames.

“Run!” He shouts, picking both kids up and kneeing Ford. On the way out, Ford manages to pull them all under the cover of some trees. “Stand back.” He informs everyone before holding the case in his hand, gripping it tight, and snapping it in half--and then, the world goes dark.

They wake up in the living room, him still holding Dipper and Mabel awkwardly, Dipper’s converse smudging a line of graphite on a giant piece of graph paper. Ford rubs his forehead awkwardly as he sits up and puts on a proper trademark pout, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Well.” He muses. “I guess that’s the end of that. Thank you both for trying.”

“Wait!” Mabel shouts as Ford turns to go. “No, c’mon, that was fun! Crying in front of a bartender, running up trees, having a _tail?”_

“It’s not going to be like that any other time we play.” Ford says sadly, with one of his wistful smiles. “D’n’D’n’MD is all in the imagination.”

“I’m good at imagination!” Mabel laughs, flopping into Dipper’s lap. “We on for next week same time? Can’t wait to run from more burning buildings!”

“What lit the tavern on fire like that at the end anyway?” Dipper muses. There is silence, and then three pairs of startled eyes fixate on Stan.

  
Shrugging, he raises a shoulder, circling next tuesday on the calendar. “ _Someone’s_ gotta put the chaotic back in chaotic neutral.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed so far!!! Please, comments keep me motivated to write on, so I'd really love some if you're liking it!


End file.
